


Joyeux Noël

by Magical_Destiny



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Because there's angst but they also have hot chocolate and talk about feelings, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, First Christmas, Is there such a thing as Soft Angst?, Light Angst, M/M, So whatever category that is lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 16:51:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Destiny/pseuds/Magical_Destiny
Summary: Caught between the past and the present, Will and Hannibal celebrate the holiday.





	Joyeux Noël

**__** _Chantez Noël! voici le jour_

_Le ciel entier frémit d'ivresse!_

_Que la nuit sombre disparaisse!_

_Voici le jour! voici le jour!_

_Montez à Dieu, chants d'allégresse!_

****

***

****

****  


Will saw the Christmas decorations for the first time in the evening. Hannibal had assembled a small tree and some holiday bric-a-brac to place around the living room; he’d been collecting decorations for weeks as Christmas drew nearer. He seldom missed his home in Baltimore with all its trappings, but as December approached he found he did miss a particular trunk full of holiday trinkets and ornaments. Most of his decor had been part of an elaborate performance. That trunk had represented something more real.

He wondered if Will was comparing the current decorations with his memories of the ones he’d seen in Hannibal’s home once upon a time. The taste he usually projected to the world had been sharp and curated. His taste in holiday decor was something softer and more intimate. Festive antler centerpieces, blown glass ornaments, hand-dipped candles, and the occasional painting of a snowy vista. An attempt, perhaps, to summon laughter ringing across snowy landscapes and the light of other candles long ago. Or memories of his mother’s ornaments, carefully packed in paper and pulled each year from trunks with fading shipping labels declaring Florence as their origin. Each one bearing stories and years’ worth of smiles and caresses. 

The memories were warm and paper-thin, sliding easily over the colder Christmases that came after—at least when Hannibal was alone. He’d always kept the memories for himself, to be aired out and indulged only in the quiet and the calm when there were no dinner parties or patients or parts to be played. 

He watched Will approach the tree in a delicate dance of shadow and firelight. Carefully, Hannibal slid his memories into place. 

His mother sat by the fire as always, carefully removing the paper from each ornament. Occasionally she would give in to Mischa’s eagerness and hand her one to hang on the tree. She lifted a fragile glass bulb. _Will you help us, Hannibal?_

Beside her, Will looked as though he was overlaid by another memory entirely. His pained expression didn’t belong in a picture so warm and gentle, so Hannibal carefully tucked the memory away. He weighed Will’s silence for a few moments before speaking. “If you don’t care for it, we can put it away. Revisit it another year, perhaps.” 

The frown lines only deepened on Will’s face—Hannibal was perturbed when he couldn’t tell whether Will was recoiling from the suggestion or from the future—and he shook his head. He drifted to the sofa and sank down in silence, eyes fixed unseeing on the tree. 

“I wasn’t expecting it,” he said quietly. “I know you asked me, but I didn’t think you were—“ he trailed off when Hannibal offered a cup of something warm and fragrant. 

“Serious,” Hannibal finished, smiling slightly when Will’s face made the leap from skeptical to appreciative after the first sip of hot chocolate revealed the presence of cinnamon, nutmeg, and spiced rum. Hannibal clasped his own mug as he settled beside Will. “I was. Holiday traditions can hold significance for us all.” 

It was too broad a statement, Hannibal saw at once. Will’s mood deteriorated instantly, as it always did with Hannibal’s distance and analysis. He inhaled the spicy fragrance of the hot chocolate and pondered the counterintuitive nature of his relationship with Will. For most creatures, showing wounds or weakness was an invitation for violence. With Will, it was the only way to invite his tenderness. Hannibal breathed in the heavy silence and carefully relaxed his grip on his secrets. “These traditions hold significance for me,” he offered. 

Will’s distance receded slowly. He sipped his drink, reflections of the fire dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t even decorate, when I was alone,” he said. “Just bought some treats for the dogs.”

_Ah_ , Hannibal thought, tracing the pain in Will’s eyes to its throbbing root. He wondered what sort of tree and traditions Will had with his wife and son. The old anger rose up, but with Will close beside him it no longer had any teeth. Besides, it had deep roots of its own: separation and desolation, gnarled and dry beneath the earth. Hannibal dismissed it before he spoke again. 

“But you weren’t always alone.”

Will shook his head, his eyes shuttered. Above all else, Hannibal hated Will pulling away from him. He pondered how best to provoke his communication when Will continued on his own. 

“Christmas is hard,” he said simply, more weary than pained. “It’s supposed to be…” He sighed and gripped his mug hard. “Peaceful. Perfect. And no matter where I am in my life, it never is.” His eyes darted in Hannibal’s direction, moving to intercept his own words. “That’s not aimed at you, to be clear. It’s aimed at me.” A heavy moment, then Will was taking a determined sip of cocoa. “This is good,” he said. “It’s all good. The tree, the decorations.” 

Will ran his fingertips over the surface of a small snow globe on the table beside him, finally gripping it to give it a shake. Snow swirled in Will’s hand and in front of Hannibal’s eyes. He thought of snowmen in the shadow of a castle, warm scones from the oven, Mischa and Mother’s voices twined in a rendition of _Noël: Montez à Dieu._

“It is hard,” Hannibal agreed, and allowed his sincerity into his voice. The words came out softer and less steady than he expected. “But I find comfort in it. Perhaps in time, so will you.” 

Hannibal could see from his posture that Will was listening, carefully weighing Hannibal’s offerings in the way he always did. He followed his thoughts with his eyes, piercing whatever residual artifice remained over Hannibal’s words without effort. Hannibal wondered if he could see Mischa by the fireplace and hear the carols echoing in sweet voices. Whatever Will saw softened his eyes—and revealed the grief behind them. 

“Not easy,” Hannibal whispered, “living with both the past and the present. But we will.” 

Will considered in silence. Hannibal didn’t breathe until he gave a slow nod. “We will,” he agreed. He relaxed, leaning into Hannibal just slightly. They lifted their mugs and drank deeply, the bitter swirled together with the warm and the sweet. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, AO3! I’ve barely posted this year! :( But better late than never when it comes to writing inspiration, so I’ll take it. Apologies for the bittersweet holiday fic. Everybody’s out here with their adorable Christmas fics and I’m just like...but what if they were SAD? lolololsob. I was just so interested in the idea that Will and Hannibal might both have difficulty with Christmas given all that they’ve lost. I just...thought about Will’s Christmases growing up, probably moving so much that the didn’t have a lot of decorations carried over from year to year...and people asking about family when he conspicuously didn’t have a mother...and lots of Christmases spent alone...and then with Molly and Wally, which were probably _good_ experiences, but not complete ones... and I made myself sad lmao. But I also loved the idea that Hannibal had emerged on the other side of that same sadness and found beauty in ugliness as he often does. At least this time, he isn’t finding beauty in murder and cannibalism. :p Maybe Will can learn to see more than his losses, too. <3
> 
> I hope this fic feels optimistic, despite the angst! That’s certainly how I meant it to feel. I’ve missed writing and posting, so it feels good to be back. Let me know if you liked it? 
> 
> Also I’m still on Tumblr even in the wake of the awful Tumblr apocalypse, so you can find me at [magicaldestiny](http://magicaldestiny.tumblr.com/) over there. I’ve also started a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/amagicaldestiny) to follow fannibals (because the exodus of artists has broken my heart and I WILL NOT be parted from them), and a [ Pillowfort!](https://www.pillowfort.io/magicaldestiny) Feel free to follow me or chat me up at any of these places. I haven’t posted yet on Twitter or Pillowfort, but I’m definitely lurking around. 
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, and hugs to you all. <3


End file.
